


Brontide

by Waistcoat35



Category: Classicaloid (Anime)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Schubert has mild anxiety, Sleepy fluff, Thunderstorms, it's 1am if you have issues with the fic quality bring them up when I have had more sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 11:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10216961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: Schubert is woken by a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, leading to worrying about several things. Perhaps Beethoven can help him,however indirectly.(Short Drabble)





	

Schubert's eyes slide open blearily as he shifts in the bed, wondering what woke him up. The air is cold, too cold as he realises he has rolled almost off the edge of his side of the bed - the space around him feels sadly empty, but he feels too tired to manage to shift backwards to warmth and safety.

That's when he realises what woke him as it happens again - a deep, rumbling roar of thunder, a brontide that fills him with anxiety and a sense of foreboding as he keeps his eyes on the window, watching the lightning flash. His sleep-riddled mind forms snatches of thoughts and worries, one of which is that the Erlking is coming for him once more - to turn him into that wrong, parallel version of himself that is as far from Schubert as it can possibly be.

Beethoven won't let that happen, he reminds himself, Beethoven won't let it win. But Beethoven isn't here - he should be, common sense tells him that if he could shake off the weight settling in his chest and turn over then he would see him right there, mouth half-open and the sheets kicked off as he slumbers on - and yet it feels like he is on a separate plane of existence, alone in the storm in the raging sea of doubt that crests in his head whenever it is given the chance. 

He wishes it wasn't like this, wishes he could live his life without worrying about every little thing - but it is sadly not so, and he doesn't want Beethoven to think that he's anything other than fine...

The thunder gets far louder, and Schubert curls himself up in the dark, trying not to shiver too much in the crushing cold, and he feels completely and utterly lonely, until...

He feels an arm carefully wrap around him, pulling him backwards from the cold brink and back into the warmth, making him feel safe and loved, a deep voice softened more by sleep murmurs "Are you alright, Franz?" and a head is rested on top of his own, which leaves him thinking that yes, maybe he does worry, and maybe he isn't perfect - but he matters to someone. Schubert closes his eyes and loses himself to the warmth.

He sleeps deeply all night.


End file.
